My name was Celestine Rogine.
I was the third daughter of the House of Rogine. Even if I sounded a bit full of myself with an introduction like that, I was really just the daughter of a simple farmer.
That farm girl eventually found herself caught up in a strange fate. It all started with the stigma.
When I was ten years old, strange marks appeared on the palms of both my hands. They weren't exactly a cute design, so I kept them hidden, but a representative from the Church who visited our village discovered them. He became incredibly excited and spoke with the village head and my father. As a result, it was decided that I would leave the village to go with the people from the Church.
It was unfortunate, but such things happened often enough. Since I was leaving with people of the cloth, I figured it was at least better than most alternatives. However, I did have one complaint: the amount of money the Church paid my father. It was a pittance. Far, far too cheap. At that price, you couldn't even buy a single goat. Was that really all I was worth? I felt like it wouldn't have killed them to pay ten times that amount.
The insult made me miserable, so I turned rebellious. I suppose I was at that age where one just wants to break things. Since breaking things would have been a waste, I didn't actually destroy anything, but I was extremely defiant while the Church people were transporting me. When they told me to get into the carriage, I climbed onto the roof instead. When they told me it was time for a meal, I ate everyone else’s portions too.
...That was a mistake.
Apparently, my behavior made them think I was a girl who had received absolutely no education, and they began to treat me accordingly.
"Please enter the carriage and sit in the furthest seat. A seat is a chair. Please sit on top of the chair. Sitting involves placing your backside on the seat. Yes, very good. Now, stay in that posture and do not move. In particular, kicking your legs about is quite improper. Do you understand?"
Everything was like that. I apologized several times, but it was no use. Eventually, I just stopped resisting.
The Church people eventually brought me to a magnificent cathedral in a large city. There, I began my training to hear the Voice of God. During my training, many high-ranking officials from the Church came to inspect me. I started to wonder if I was actually allowed to train at all, as my progress was interrupted by formal greetings every time I turned around.
"Ah, I have to change clothes again? Who is it this time?"
Having to change my outfit depending on the guest was an enormous hassle. But I complied; it was my finest formal dress, after all. It seemed the person I was meeting was someone of incredible importance. How tedious.
About two years passed after I started my training. In reality, I felt like I hadn't even completed half of the curriculum, yet I became able to hear the Voice of God. At first, I thought I was just hearing things, but apparently, that was it. I could only listen; I couldn't hold a conversation.
The voices sounded as if dozens of people were speaking simultaneously. I would simply listen for meaningful words within the din and speak them aloud. I never knew what I actually said during those moments. It was strange, but since I had no memory of the events, there was nothing I could do. Regardless, every high-ranking official in the Church would bow their heads to me.
From that day on, I was called a Saint. I was given ten attendants and moved into the most luxurious room available. It was a dream-like life. However, having to listen for the Voice of God once every day was difficult in its own way. Though, the people of the Church probably had it harder than I did. After hearing the "voice," they would weep with joy or faint from sheer terror. What on earth was I saying? I was curious, but no matter who I asked, they refused to tell me. They claimed that if I were given unnecessary knowledge, the Voice of God would become distorted. It made sense, I suppose, but I remained dissatisfied.
About four months after I began hearing the Voice of God, the Church came under attack. Having been raised in a peaceful village, I panicked. The attackers were dressed in pitch-black clothes, and they managed to fight their way right to my doorstep. Their objective was clearly me.
However, I managed to repel them. The opponent didn't seem to expect that I would fight back. A girl raised in a village learns quite a few things to protect herself, and even after arriving at the Church, I had practiced for an hour every night before bed. The result of that practice—a short left hook—buried itself deep in the attacker's right flank. The key is that upward-thrusting trajectory.
The attacker let out a scream. Hehehe. No matter how sturdy a person is, they will writhe in agony if you hit them there. Though, you do have to be accurate. I struck the same spot three times before he went down. Then, I drove a right uppercut into the collapsing attacker's jaw. It was a satisfying success.
However, despite the damage, the attackers managed to withdraw. They got away, which was a shame. But I had done my best. I even struck a victory pose! My attendants just stared at me, backing away. Honestly, shouldn't they have been the ones standing in front of me to protect me? When we first met, they introduced themselves as my guards, didn't they? I wondered if I should make them practice with me that night.
The attacks happened many times after that. I was kidnapped twice, and things were quite hectic as I was usually rescued before anything serious could happen. I actually became an acquaintance of one of the attackers—the first one I had punched. Apparently, he was just a mercenary, and he was actually quite sympathetic toward me. He still kidnapped me, of course, but at least he was polite about it.
The Church wasn't entirely incompetent. They called for reinforcements and hired skilled adventurers to investigate our enemies. However, they were always one step behind. Eventually, I was kidnapped again. That was the third time, I believe. I wondered when they would come to save me this time.
...But help never came. The Church side turned out to be incompetent after all. Honestly.
For about half a year, I relayed the Voice of God at the place where I was being held. I couldn't exactly resist; if I did, they would treat me horribly. As long as I followed orders, they were polite and provided decent meals. Over there, I only had to perform once a week rather than every day, and there were fewer high-ranking officials to deal with, so it was actually easier. I even started to think that it was fine if the rescue took a little longer.
The people who eventually came to "rescue" me were from the Church, but they belonged to a different faction entirely. That was when I realized the group that had kidnapped me was also a faction of the Church. What was that all about? It was so complicated. Well, I understood that every faction just wanted me for themselves. Fine, I thought. I’ll just go with whoever offers the best treatment.
"There is a legend that says if one's eyes are put out, the Voice of God can be heard even more clearly."
Ah, no. Not that faction. Absolutely not. I'll pass on that. Someone save me!
Several years of repeated kidnappings followed. I was moved to many different places. It was exhausting. It was especially painful when I was taken from an easygoing faction and handed over to a strict one. When I was kidnapped by a faction where the food was terrible, I seriously considered escaping on my own. Three meals of gruel every day... and it was so thin it was basically water. Meanwhile, the high-ranking officials were feasting on extravagant meals. I prayed for divine punishment with all my heart.
Finally, I was secured by the armed group attached to the Korin religion headquarters. They were a group famous for being terrifying. I assumed I would be sheltered at the headquarters, but instead, I was dropped off at a certain village. I was told to hide there for a while. It seemed they were trying to be considerate because I was originally a village girl, but I had experienced so much by then. I doubted a quiet village life would satisfy me...
Then I arrived, and I had to change my clothes countless times. If this was a trial from God, it was a cruel one. Even I have a sense of shame. I'm sorry for being conceited. Please, let me stay here. I’ll be in your care.
Once I was permitted to stay, I spent quite a while in my room. I was incredibly grateful for the accommodations. The food was beyond delicious. It took me a long time to get used to the village, and I'm sure I was a burden to everyone. I am truly sorry for that.
The wine-colored slime was a huge help to me. It would occasionally bring me sake, which was wonderful. Thank you. Getting scolded by the High Ogre maids alongside that slime is a memory I will never forget. I'm sorry for drinking in secret.
In this village, no one gave me special treatment. They treated me as just another girl. Because of that, I stopped acting like a Saint and started working in the village like everyone else. Helping with the harvest brought back so many memories. I was genuinely envious because all the crops in this village were of such incredible quality.
But was it really all right for me not to work as a Saint? When I was in this village, I could hear the Voice extremely well. It was clear, as if someone were standing right next to me.
"Oh? Mr. Cat, what's the matter?"
I was scared of him at first, but I'm fine now. I still wonder why I fainted the first time I saw him.
"Ah, please don't apologize. It's not like you did anything wrong, Mr. Cat. Come here, let me hold you."
It was a strange sensation. It felt almost as if I were holding God himself... but that had to be my imagination.
"Let's go greet the Creator God together."
That had become my daily routine. That statue is truly magnificent. Apparently, it was handmade by the Village Head, but my head naturally bows whenever I'm in front of it. I wonder if they'd ever let me have the job of taking care of that statue.
I have been in the village for a little over a year now, and it was officially decided that I would migrate here permanently. The high-ranking officials at the Korin religion headquarters had apparently searched for other destinations for me, but none of them worked out. They apologized to me, but there was no need. I wanted to live my life in this village.
However, my workplace is elsewhere. I work at the church in Village Five, which I reach by traveling through the village's underground passage. It’s strange that I end up on top of a small mountain after going through a tunnel, but I’ve learned not to worry about it. I’ve grown used to strange things since moving here.
I was appointed as the head of that church. I worried if it was really all right, but since I was the only person there, I suppose it made sense. I promised to do my best, but being alone was a bit daunting. To be honest, I'm a bit ashamed to admit that I don't actually know much about the Church's religious rituals. I was a Saint, but my role was effectively that of a "Ritual Tool." I just had to stand perfectly still and look the part.
The officials from the Korin religion headquarters understood my situation and brought several priests to assist me. That was a massive help. I told them I would be relying on them for many things.
"Eh? I have to study too?"
...Fine. I’ll do my best. But I’ll start tomorrow. Today, I have to help with the harvest back in the village.
That reminds me, I need to consult with Yoko regarding the harvest festival in Village Five. I personally think a flashy celebration would be best, but I wondered what others thought.
"My apologies. I asked that the wrong way. Regarding the food for the harvest festival... would you prefer it to be delicious, or simple?"
Just as I thought. I’ll make sure our discussion goes in that direction.
My name is Celestine Rogine. I am a Saint who can hear the Voice of God, but I don't really let it bother me much anymore.
"Is it really all right if I start a field behind the church? Truly? And I can choose which crops to grow myself? Yay!"
I finally have my own field, which was my childhood dream. Fufu. I won't forgive anyone who ruins my crops. I'll ask God to curse them, and then they can taste my finishing short left hook.
I can always have a lively discussion about farming with the Village Head of the Village of the Great Tree.
The short left hook is aimed specifically for the liver.